


Upstairs

by boysquipleurent



Series: Inside A Galaxy (Poly Household Verse) [2]
Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Aftercare, Background Poly, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Discipline, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Sexual Spanking, Poly Family, Poly Household - Freeform, Polyamory, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boysquipleurent/pseuds/boysquipleurent
Summary: What went on in the unseen parts of "The Importance of Punctuality."Takes place October 2016.





	Upstairs

     Taekwoon is not watching the clock. He’s upstairs in the master bedroom, reading a book where he’s lounging on the window seat that overlooks the side yard and one of their next door neighbor’s houses. If someone asked him if he was avoiding the light soaked double bedroom that looked out over the front lawn, as well as the driveway, he would deny it. Taekwoon trusts Wonshik, who has been very good lately. And he believes whatever will happen will happen, so he shouldn’t interfere. 

     Taekwoon gets rather absorbed in what he’s reading, and moves to the bed to stretch out a bit more. He ends up dozing off in the warmth of the house, the murmurings of the voices downstairs lulling him into sleep for a bit. 

     When he stirs, it’s still afternoon, so he hasn’t slept that long. He stretches launguidly, a few times actually, loathe to move from his warm, comfortable spot. He does roll onto his stomach, though, and gropes for his phone on the nightstand. He taps it to life and the first thing that greets him is the clock. 3:32. He checks his texts, and there’s nothing from Wonshik. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, though. Ravi normally texts them when he’s coming home, but he sometimes forgets, and that’s not a big deal among their rules. Hakyeon’s more of a stickler for that than he is, anyway. 

     Taekwoon texts Hakyeon to ask if Wonshik is home yet. H still doesn’t feel like leaving his bed, and if Wonshik is actually late, the others will be in a tizzy downstairs, he knows, nervous for their partner. Taekwoon doesn’t have the energy to face their frantic nerves, so he’ll happily stay up here. His phone buzzes.

      [text from: Hakyeon] No, he’s not home yet. He hasn’t texted either.

     Taekwoon sets an alarm for an hour from now. He’s not going to get worked up over a small slip-up, though he’s sure Hakeon is already fretting, despite the fact they know where Wonshik is and that he’s fine. He’ll worry about this if Wonshik’s still not home by the time his alarm goes off. Taekwoon picks up his book once more.

~

   He jumps, completely startled when his phone begins vibrating wildly, and the volume of the ringtone steadily rises. He blinks and looks around. Has it been an hour already? Taekwoon checks his phone once more and sighs. He already knows the answer, but he texts Hakyeon again anyway.

     [text from: Hakyeon] Still not home, no. And no contact from him either.

     Taekwoon’s lips purse a little and he goes back to his book once more. He’s distracted now, however, and has a hard time concentrating. He doesn’t need to think about Wonshik’s punishment just yet. For now it will be a standard one, but not for much longer. Taekwoon tries to read until five and then he bookmarks his place and gets off the bed. He checks his phone once more, to see if there’s anything from Wonshik. When there’s not, Taekwoon goes to get the ironing board from the hall closet.

     Hakyeon comes upstairs around 5:15 finding Taekwoon ironing in the small room with the single bed, watching the news as he works.

     “He still hasn’t- …Taek?” Hakyeon asks, cutting himself off when he sees what Taekwoon is doing. He looks a little apprehensive. “Taekwoon…” Hakyeon says when the other man doesn’t reply. “Is that really going to be necessary?”

     “It looks like it,” Taekwoon replies. He turns his gaze to Hakyeon, expression softening. “You know how he is. I have to.” Hakyeon looks discontent, but he nods. He does know.

     “I’ll let you know when he texts.” Hakyeon slips away quietly, and Taekwoon breathes out slowly. He doesn’t like punishing his boy. He does like the closeness of it, the intimacy. He does like that Wonshik lets Taekwoon punish him, trusts him to do it. He likes everything that normally follows a punishment, but he doesn’t, in fact, enjoy punishing Wonshik when it’s not for fun. 

     In fact, if he could, Taekwoon would be easier on Wonshik. He’d learned quickly that being gentle with Wonshik's punishments is the wrong thing to do, though. It’s never because Wonshik is particularly bad, but instead because Wonshik is an internalizer. He is so much harder on himself than anyone else, and in the context of their relationship, it means he will mentally flagellate himself until he feels he has truly earned forgiveness. A soft hand only leads to a distressed Wonshik who’s left feeling incomplete, desperate, and inadequate; so Taekwoon provides the stern hand (sometimes more like an iron fist) that serves as a stopping point for Wonshik’s anxiousness over his mistakes, physically resetting his mind.

 

     Hakyeon finally pops his head in close to quarter of 6.

      “He just texted, so he’ll be home soon.” Taekwoon has set all the clothes out on the bed now, and is just folding up the ironing board. He nods to Hakyeon in thanks, beginning to double check he has everything he needs. His mind wanders back to when Wonshik first became part of their dynamic, the fourth to join their little family. Taekwoon smiles to himself as he realizes that Wonhik has had curfews nearly the whole time they’ve been together.

     It was a health rule, back then. These days the Sunday curfew is used for bonding time, but back in their early days together Taekwoon, Hakyeon, and Jaehwan soon came to realize that Wonshik's drive to succeed and his passion for music and producing were driving him to the brink of collapse. Wonshik as Ravi the composer and performer didn’t know how to say no to his own creative impulses, didn’t know how to turn himself off. He just soldiered through under the badge of artistic suffering.

     They had been tentative at first, setting easy limits that wouldn’t even make most college students bat an eye. It was amazing how hyperfocused Wonshik could get though, and he would blow through 2 or 3 AM easily at first. Truth be told, Jaehwan could be the same way sometimes, especially when he found a new series to get invested in, so the curfew worked to reign in his unhealthy sleep patterns a bit as well. 

     As their confidence in their relationship mounted, and the bonds among them grew stronger, Wonshik’s curfews got dialed back more and more, especially after he graduated. Oh, he whined plenty about how the bedtimes were “stifling his peak creativity hours,” but Taekwoon would smirk every time Wonshik dropped off to sleep within minutes of climbing into bed before midnight, and how he marveled aloud how energetic he felt after he began sleeping more than three or four hours a night.

     If Wonshik was really hellbent on a certain project then they’d usually make exceptions, but even with those in place he sometimes lapsed with getting to bed on time, or leaving his studio when he was supposed to. That’s what many of their house rules were for in reality, encouraging good habits in all of them, helping individuals with tasks they struggled with.

     Wonshik had fought them a few times on it, throwing one really spectacular tantrum in particular about it during his senior year of college, if Taekwoon was remembering correctly. It had been a real blowout with screaming and tears into the early morning, small silences settling in when they got too tired to continue only for a look or a sigh or shift in position to set the whole thing off again. In the end everything was finally dragged out into the open, and while some of the smaller pieces were Wonshik’s stress over graduation and finding a job afterward along with (of course) recent lack of sleep, the major part, one that had been eating at him since he’d joined their arrangement, was anxiety over his identity as an artist. Wonshik had long internalized the idea that as an artistic person it was normal, preferred even, for him to be a night owl, a work horse who rarely slept, and that by letting his partners train him into a better sleep schedule he was somehow betraying that, turning mundane, allowing his best moments and ideas to slip by.

     That had been a long and exhausting weekend of talking and figuring out solutions, but it was just one of those events that happened sometimes in a power dynamic relationship. It wasn’t ideal, of course, but no matter how great their communication skills, or how clear the plans and guidelines for conflict, they were all human and fights did not always pan out in a textbook healthy way. The important thing was they had all been able to talk through it, and Wonshik had finally been able to let go of most of his guilt over maturing as a creative person and making his health just as important as (and not more than) his art. Taekwoon knew Wonshik still struggled with those feelings from time to time, but it was rarer now, and he usually came to one of them about it for help when he did. 

     Taekwoon finds himself sitting on the bed in the single, smiling to himself. He’s glad for the little reminiscence, the memories that remind him of why this particular rule is important for Wonshik. Taekwoon finds it easier with the reminder to conduct this punishment from a place of love, not simply out of need or duty, and never out of anger, of course. Just then, he hears the front door open. He takes a breath and counts to five before he stands.

~ 

     He can feel Wonshik shaking beneath Taekwoon’s grasp on his shoulder. Taekwoon knows by now it’s not so much fear as it is excess energy and apprehension about what’s to come. He leads Wonshik into the bedroom, where he’d put the clothes aside on a chair for now. The bed is clear and he quietly order Wonshik to bend over it.

     “Pants and underwear down,” he adds. Wonshik murmurs an assent and undoes his pants, pushing them down to his thighs along with his underwear. He bends over the bed without a sound, folding his arms across the mattress, supporting himself on his elbows. He knows what's coming, and he knows he deserves it.  Taekwoon moves slowly, picking up a wooden hairbrush from the top of the nearby dresser. 

     “If you tense, it will only hurt more,” Taekwoon reminds Wonshik as he approaches, able to see Wonshik’s muscles are already tight, no doubt having a hard time relaxing in those first moments. Wonshik doesn’t answer, just takes a deep, shuddering breath and Taewoon sees the muscles disengaging. He strikes immediately, a sharp swing smacking the wooden back down over one asscheek. Wonshik yelps in surprise, body jerking at the sharp, deep sting.

     “One,” Wonshik gets out around trying to catch his breath from the surprise without having to be reminded.

     “Good boy,” Taekwoon murmurs. “It’s going to be one for every minute later dinner is tonight.” Taekwoon places a hand on Wonshik’s lower back, not exerting any pressure, just to steady both of them before smacking the hairbrush down on the other cheek without waiting for an answer. Wonshik isn’t taken by surprise this time and his voice is steadier when he counts “two.” It doesn’t stay that way, though, his voice starting to waver around ten, his skin bright pink now. Taekwoon keeps a careful watch to make sure his goal number isn’t too much for Wonshik’s body.

     Taekwoon lands the hairbrush in a slightly different place every strike, concentrating on the roundest, softest part of Wonshik’s ass, no real imprints forming because of this. Instead the skin warms and blushes nearly equally, Wonshik squirming beneath the strokes now. Taekwoon presses his hand down a bit more, keeping Wonshik in place. There’s enough planned that Taekwoon doesn’t feel it necessary to make Wonshik keep himself still, and he’s counting steadily, now past twenty, mucus clearly clogging his throat now as his eyes water, no doubt.

     By the end Wonshik is sobbing, hands fisted in the bedspread, choking out “please, Taekwoon please, stop, it hurts” between the numbers, but his lips never so much as form the first syllable of his safeword, so Taekwoon keeps on, confident in his choice.   And Wonshiki is a good boy, not missing a single number, hardly even hesitating, even at the end of the punishment.

     It’s over when they hit thirty, and Taekwoon makes sure to say “good boy” so Wonshik knows they’re done with this portion. He sets the hairbrush aside, gently stroking Wonshik’s back for a moment so they can both catch their breath and Wonshik can get his balance back.

     “Corner now,” Taekwoon says softly, and helps Wonshik stand straight again, steadying him when he wobbles at first from the slight headrush. He keeps his hand on Wonshik’s elbow as the man waddles to the right, stopping to face the corner with his pants still around his legs and his now bright red cheeks on display. Taekwoon strokes his hair once in encouragement and then goes about fetching the clothes again, listening to Wonshik’s heavy breathing and occasional sniffles.

     “Are you calm now?” Taekwoon asks softly when he’s prepared, and when Wonshik seems like he’s had enough time to gather himself again. 

     “Yes,” Wonshik says softly, voice still watery, and he turns around. “I’m sorry for being late, and not letting anyone now, and not following our health rules,” he blurts immediately and Taekwoon gathers him up into a hug.

     “I know you are. It was a long time, though, tonight. You’ve been really good with your curfews lately, you just made a mistake this time. It happens. But we still have to punish you because we know you can do better. And we want to remind you of that.”

  
     “I know,” Wonshik replies with a hiccup. Taekwoon pulls away slightly and kisses Wonshik’s forehead. “That’s my boy. Ready for the last part?” Wonshik gives him a resigned nod, but when Taekwoon orders him to finish undressing and he sees the clothes laid out for him, he looks horrified.

   “Taekwoon, please no,” he pleads, the punishment not all that cruel, but the indignity of it pushing Wonshik’s now overtired senses into a heightened emotional state.

     “It was a long time,” Taekwoon repeats evenly, staying calm. “Three hours, Wonshik.” He can see the tears welling in Wonshik’s eyes again, and he knows they’re more from frustration and helplessness than real upset. Wonshik shakes his head pathetically when Taekwoon holds out the white briefs. 

     “Please…please, hyung, _no_ ,” Wonshik sobs quietly, even as he steps into the underwear and lets Taekwoon pull it up. Wonshik’s use of an honorific marks his descent into partial subspace, not deep enough to call Taekwoon by his title, but enough that he’s trying to appeal to Taekwoon as more than just one of his partners. Taekwoon doesn’t respond this time, knowing it will be easier on both of them if he just gets on with it. So he dresses Wonshik in the very proper outfit even as the other hiccups and whimpers, the noises scratching at Taekwoon’s heart.

   He guides Wonshik into the bathroom to wash the man’s face and gel his hair back, to fresh sobs, but he must be firm. This is good for Wonshik. He wipes the other’s face again when his hiccups have steadied and his tears have dried.

     “It’s dinnertime, Wonshik. Let’s go downstairs.” Taekwoon can’t spoil him too much, and being too soft between segments will only make it harder to finish, so Taekwoon knows he might appear cold if outsiders were to see him sweeping Wonshik into the dining room. But Taekwoon is confident in his choices, including Wonshik’s grounding from his electronics for the night. The poor thing doesn’t even respond to that, just takes his seat amongst the awkward atmosphere at the table.

     Things are silent at first, a little tense and slightly unsure. He can see Sanghyuk looking to Jaehwan curiously at one point, still getting familiar with the dynamics of situations like this. And then Hakyeon, bless him, slides easily into conversation with Jaehwan without making the coverup obvious. Taekwoon mostly keeps his eyes on his plate as everyone but he and Wonshik join in the conversation. He’s watching, like always, out of the corner of his eye in case Wonshik gets overwhelmed. He doesn’t miss the man’s slight struggle to keep himself under control, but when he passes into a state where he’s on the road to hyperventilating, Taekwoon quietly stands up, moving toward him as unobtrusively as he can. He rests cool palms on Wonshik’s cheeks, pressing a kiss to Wonshik’s forehead as the other grabs on to his wrists, anchoring his touch. Taekwoon offers the slight affection as encouragement and a reminder that he's okay, gently extracting himself when Wonshik regains control of his breathing.

     Taekwoon can relax slightly after that, knowing from years of experience that the worst is probably over. Sure enough, the remainder of dinner goes smoothly and Taekwoon is now eager to finish the last of what needs to be done o they can all just spend time together winding down from this. He smiles to himself at Wonshik’s bashfulness when Taekwoon announces it’s time for his bath, and Taekwoon knows it’s from being treated like a child.  That's why he does it, of course, because he can never resist putting that blush on Wonshik's face.

     He can tell Wonshik is hesitating with going upstairs, not about the bath, but about something on his mind, so Taekwoon gives him the space to say it. Even though he keeps his expression neutral, Taekwoon’s heart melts as he speaks. Wonshik is a good boy - a good man - with a gentle heart who cares a lot about all of them. He just doesn’t always make good decisions about taking care of himself, and is prone to putting his ambitions above his health.

     Taekwoon's chest is warm from all of this as he leads Wonshik back upstairs, filling the tub with warm water before turning to Wonshik. He undresses Wonshik, who’s now just standing there looking slightly out of it, with care, and Taekwoon knows he’s fading fast. Punishments take a lot out of anyone, and this has been a pretty extended one for just a single night. Quiet falls between them as he helps Wonshik into the bath, kneeling by the edge as he takes up a fresh washcloth. Taekwoon looks up when a hand curls in his sleeve.

     “You’re not getting in?” Wonshik asks, glancing up at Taekwoon with questioning eyes that seem to be trying not to hope for too much. Taekwoon shakes his head.

     “Not tonight, Shikkie.” Wonshik nods after a second, seemingly taking it in stride while Taekwoon busies himself washing the other. He spends a lot of time and shampoo working the gel out of Wonshik’s hair, and Taekwoon makes sure to condition it so it will be soft again after all the rinsing. Wonshik’s eyes are drifting closed in the heat, and Taekwoon has to nudge him a little to get the other out of the bath. As Taekwoon wraps him in a towel, he notices Wonshik is still in quiet contemplation, so he hugs Wonshik with the towel around him, pressing another soft kiss to Wonshik's forehead.

 

     “You’re forgiven, Wonshik.” Immediately, he feels Wonshik go slack against him, head falling onto Taekwoon’s shoulder with his eyes closed. Taekwoon lip-reads the “thank you” more than he hears it. He tries to make quick work of finishing drying his partner off, smiling as Wonshik picks out well-worn pajama pants and an enormous hoodie to cocoon himself in. Taekwoon gets another hug when Wonshik, looking more alert now, emerges into the hallway.  
  
     “I’m proud of you,” Taekwoon says, holding him close. “And I love you, Wonshik.” He feels Wonshik’s chest expand and then fall again with a sigh, a smile finally returning to his face face.  
  
     “I love you, too, Taek.  Thank you.  Again.”  
  
     Taekwoon presses him a little closer and keeps them right there in their little bubble for another moment, before he stops hogging Wonshik and they return downstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> AND I BET Y'ALL THOUGHT YOU GOT RID OF ME.
> 
> But seriously, I am still alive, I don't intend on abandoning either Prancer or this loose series. Adjusting to working full-time at a "career" job took a lot more out of me than I thought, and I struggled a lot with getting the second half of this fic on paper despite the fact that all of it was laid out in my head.
> 
> But I'm here, my fics and I are queer, and Prancer is up next on the update list. I will also be going through and (probably very slowly) editing all previous chapters of previous fics because even with proofing there are minor issues to fix in all of them. 
> 
> Ideally, from here on out I'd like to get semi-regular Prancer updates going, and add to the polyverse in the background as I do that.
> 
> Thank you to those who have commented, faved, and subscribed on my varioius works, it has helped keep me going with these.


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